


One Alley To Begin With

by AuroraKant



Series: Whumptober2020 [2]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bruce Wayne Needs a Hug, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Father-Son Bonding?, Gen, Gun Violence, Self-Doubt, Tears, Tim Drake Gets a Hug, Tim Drake Needs a Hug, Tim Drake is Robin, Tim Drake-centric, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:02:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26798533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuroraKant/pseuds/AuroraKant
Summary: Tim Drake had been Robin for three months and twelve days, when he finally got a chance to prove himself to Batman.It wasn't his intention to travel through time - and it had never been his plan to get an opportunity to prevent the biggest crime of them all: Bruce Wayne's parents getting murdered.Day 3: Manhandled | Forced To Their Knees |Held At Gunpoint
Relationships: Bruce Wayne & Martha Wayne & Thomas Wayne, Tim Drake & Bruce Wayne
Series: Whumptober2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1948651
Comments: 23
Kudos: 146
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	One Alley To Begin With

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, my friends!  
> And welcome back to this wonderful Whumptober prompt!  
> I hope you are having as much fun as I am having!  
> Feedback, comments, bookmarks, and kudos give me life - and I love all of you who have taken their time to let me know their feelings! Enjoy! <3

It was very important that Tim didn’t mess this up.

It was the first time that Batman, Mr. Wayne, had allowed him to patrol alone after all… and Tim planned on doing everything correctly. Exactly like the handbook he had been given on his first day. He would make Mr. Wayne (“Call me Bruce”) proud.

Robin checked both sides of the street before he fired his grapple gun to jump over the empty space between the two buildings. Dick Grayson himself had shown Tim how to do that! That was… that was… Dick Grayson had looked at Tim, smiled, and taught him how to grapple correctly!

Tim could die happy now.

Or, no, not quite yet. There were a few other things he had to achieve first: He had to make it to the gymnastics lessons Dick had promised him next week, he had to make Mr. Bruce-man smile a genuine smile, and he had to convince Alfred that microwave tea was valid and boxed mac’n’cheese had its merits.

That last one might be a lost battle, though, Tim could admit that much.

But before he could work on all the other goals on his achievement list, he had to make sure to Not Die on this patrol. Batman was sick at home with the flu, and Tim only had to ask twice to be allowed to patrol alone. Tim tried to ignore the fact that Bruce had called him “Jason” in his fever haze…

Because if he succeeded, if he managed to bring in criminals, and even fight the meta that made the people of Gotham fear for their lives… maybe then Mr. Wayne would stop looking at him like that. Maybe Mr. Wayne would start seeing Tim for what he was. For who he was.

Because Timothy Jackson Drake was many things, but he could never be Jason Todd.

Tim had known that, of course, he had, back when he first forced his way into Batman’s life, but the longer he carried the mantel of Robin, the more he realized that everyone knew that – except Mr. Wayne.

Bruce looked at Tim and saw his dead son. He looked at Tim and saw a Robin that no longer existed.

Which was unfair! Tim had even changed the iconic uniform to ensure that he wouldn’t look like his predecessor. But no matter what he did, no matter how good he became, or how far he pushed himself… Batman only saw the Robin he couldn’t safe.

Well, that would change tonight.

Because Tim would catch that damned meta, and Bruce would wake up tomorrow morning with a hero as a… _house guest_. Tim’s parents were currently in Guatemala, and Dick had made Bruce swear that Tim could stay at the Manor while they were gone.

It was epic! Drake Estate was big and fancy and empty. But the Manor? The old wood railings were perfect for sliding down, and wherever Tim looked, he could see memorabilia of his heroes and idols. There were pictures on the wall, first depicting Bruce and his parents, and then later showing a young Dick Grayson and a smiling Bruce Wayne.

Tim’s favorite pictures were those of Jason Todd, however. As much as Tim sometimes resented the boy for dying and leaving Bruce behind and grieving, Jason had still been the Robin Tim had watched fly. Jason was the Robin on all of his old photographs, when Tim had snuck into the city to have an adventure all on his own.

And Jason Todd was always smiling, always happy together with Bruce in those pictures on the wall. Be it during a Gotham Knights game, or an ice cream dinner – you could clearly see that Bruce and Jason were father and son.

Living at the Manor, eating dinner with Bruce and Alfred almost felt as if Tim could have the same. As if he could have a father that cared, and a family that loved him as well.

But Tim knew one thing: He would only get that if he could proof to Bruce that he was worth it.

That Bruce had been right when he had let Tim keep the Robin mantel.

So, a solo patrol through Gotham’s shadiest part it was. The harbor.

The meta had last been seen here, and Tim would ensure that that person got caught. They made people disappear for a few hours, before they returned confused and mumbling about crazy stuff that shouldn’t be true. That couldn’t be true.

It wasn’t a high-profile case, not like the ones Batman kept hidden in the Bat-computer. But there was no way Tim would get a pat on the back or a hug if he hacked into the forbidden files that contained all the cases Batman deemed _too dangerous_.

Tim would only get killed should he decide to face Two-Face or Killer Croc on his own.

But a medium important case? Something that had bugged Bruce for months, without the man finding the time to take care of it? That was something Tim could do. Would do.

The harbor in front of him was silent, the distant sound of waves crashing against the shore the only noise audible. There wasn’t even a drug deal going on around the corner, and Tim was honestly a bit disappointed.

The harbor looked so dirty and broken down, he had kind of hoped that it would be more exciting to patrol here alone. But, no, nothing happened for the entire first hour Robin watched the street the meta had last been seen.

And then everything happened at once.

The building in front of him exploded, and out of the carnage a human shape floated upwards. Tim had protected himself from the blast with his cape, but it hadn’t been enough, the force almost throwing him off the roof.

But now he was looking, and he had the weird hunch that he had made a grave mistake.

Because that meta in front of him looked more powerful than Tim had counted on. They were wearing a long coat, and their hair was dark and flowy - the colors of the rainbows getting caught in the long strands. How was he supposed to defeat and arrest _that_? He was shaking maybe a tiny bit by the time the meta had stopped raising, the fire in the background illuminating them.

It was a magnificent sight, and Tim mourned his lack of camera, since this was a once in a lifetime shot, before his brain caught up with him and he realized that Batman would kill him. If the meta didn’t do it first.

Because Tim was pretty sure that exploding buildings and ominously rising bad guys usually counted as a “fail” on the Successful Robin scale.

Tim only wanted to make Bruce proud, make Batman believe in him… suddenly, he really doubted if that would work out for him. Because the meta was looking directly at Robin. And Tim had nowhere to hide or run.

The blast hit him square in the chest before Tim could even dare to move, his last thought before the tingling sensation washed him away:

_Mr. Wayne is gonna be so mad at me._

The world was blurry when sensation returned to Tim.

He was still standing on a rooftop in the harbor district, the smell of salt and sea in his nose. But something was different, Tim just knew it. His brain was still a bit fuzzy, but as soon as he blinked a couple of times, the dancing stars disappeared from his vision.

It wasn’t really all that difficult to notice the differences after that.

For one, the weather was completely different. It had been a humid summer night when Tim had started his patrol, and now a frigid cold laid over everything. The second thing Tim noticed – was unable to ignore, really – was all the buildings that had most certainly not been there when Tim had last observed his surroundings.

The building he had just watched explode for one was still standing in front of him, and it looked decades newer than it had just half an hour ago.

This was… not good. Not good at all.

Okay, but Tim was Robin, he wouldn’t be swayed by a weird new situation. He couldn’t be – Robin always thought on the spot, finding new ways and solutions before anyone else could. Robin was quicker on his feet and faster in his mind than even Batman.

Now Tim only needed to turn that motto into reality.

His teeth were chattering when he finally reached downtown, his Robin costume not made for the temperatures of a Gotham winter. On his way over the rooftops he noticed quite a few things: The fashion was out of style, the people were smoking a whole lot more, and cars looked like the collector’s items in his dad’s garage.

Tim didn’t want to think about it, but his brain couldn’t really deny the fact that it looked a whole lot like time travel.

Tim, Robin for three months and twelve days, had time traveled.

(if the theory checked out and Tim couldn’t find any evidence to oppose it, of course)

Watching the people on the street walking down Crime Alley as if nothing was wrong, made Tim giddy. Giddy and dreadful. Because on the one hand, Tim had traversed time and space, he had achieved what no other human in existence had done, he had travelled back in time. On the other hand,… he was now stranded in an unknown point in time and Bruce had no idea where he was.

Oh no, Bruce… the man would be crushed if he woke up from his fever dreams and Tim was nowhere to be found. Batman needed a Robin, and Tim had just successfully landed himself rather far away from Batman.

Now it was set in stone: Tim had to find a way back as fast as possible, no matter how intriguing and fascinating the past was.

But where should he start? By the looks of it there was no Batman yet. Tim, at least, hadn’t seen any Batburger signs or Batman and Robin toys. No, the only advertising Tim could spot was for a movie featuring the “Gray Ghost” whoever that was.

But if Batman didn’t exist yet, neither did the Justice League. Who else had any idea about time travel and all that stuff? Maybe the very first speedster, Joe or Jack Garrick. Tim was trying to recall the name, hoping that Mr. Garrick was already alive, when he stumbled across a rather odd group of people while scanning the crowd from above.

Three people, a man, a woman and a child, were laughing and talking while they passed through groups of people on the busy streets. It was late, past 10pm if Tim could believe the big clocktower standing above Gotham, but not too late yet.

He wasn’t sure what had caught his attention, the couple and their child looking rather normal, if well dressed. Maybe it was the fact that his mom never looked like that when his dad made a joke, or maybe it was the fact that the boy was smiling while he talked to his parents… but something clicked inside of Tim, and he knew he had to follow them.

It was easy to keep track of the group, the woman’s fur coat easily the most expensive thing on the street.

Tim followed and watched as the man hugged his wife close, giving her a kiss, and as the kid took his dad’s hand, pulling him along faster with an annoyed grin on his face.

They were a family, a family like the one Tim had always wanted. A mom, who was lovely and caring, and a dad, who smiled and joked. The boy even looked a bit like Tim… dark hair and bright blue eyes. But where Tim could fake the perfect smile, the boy’s eyes shone with real joy whenever another pearl of laughter escaped him.

The couple strayed from the crowds of the main street leading through Park Row, towards the quieter corners and alleys. Their voices started to separate themselves from the noises of many, and Tim could feel the blood drain from his cheeks, when he heard the woman speak… when he heard what she was saying:

“Not so fast, Bruce! The ice cream is not going to run away! We have time.”

Bruce.

Bruce.

_Bruce…_

With newfound precision Tim looked again, and suddenly he saw exactly who these people were. He wanted to hit himself for his ideocracy, for his blindness… because he was watching Thomas and Martha Wayne, together with their son Bruce, on their way to be killed.

He was watching as two amazing people who loved their kid walked towards their death.

And he had done nothing yet to stop it! He had to save them! There was a crime going to happen, and for once in his life Robin would be able to step in before someone came to harm, before someone had to die!

The gravel underneath his feet made a satisfying sound, when Tim started to run.

Time went by way too fast. It felt as if Tim had barely started running when they reached the alley the crime would take place in. Tim wasn’t as well versed in Bruce’s early childhood as he was in the lives of Dick and Jason, but no one could live in Gotham and not know where the city defining tragedy had taken place.

The Waynes were only a couple of feet behind him, down on the street, and Tim watched with bated breath as they rounded the corner and entered the real Crime Alley. The place that had started it all.

Next question: How should he stop them?

It was unlikely that they would just believe him if he dropped down and tried to explain himself. Most people didn’t feel inclined to believe a thirteen-year-old kid in a spandex costume, and these people were even less likely too, since they had never seen Superman save the planet or Robin save the day before.

He could try and beat up the gangster who would shoot them, but that would mean leaving them alone in order to search for the man. What if something else happened to Martha and Thomas while Tim was away? There was a high probability that the time stream would want to correct itself, and Tim would only change the _how_ of the murder and not the fact that it happened.

No, he had to be clever about this.

The gears in his head were turning and Tim watched as Bruce excitedly told his dad all about the Gray Ghost and all the adventures the hero got into… it was adorable. Tim hadn’t known Bruce Wayne could be adorable. The man was stiff and grumpy most of the time Tim went to speak with him, and even if he wasn’t in a bad mood… he was sad. Bruce Wayne was a very sad man, and Tim would do anything to make him smile again.

Especially now, where he knew how bright Bruce could smile, how happy this child had been.

Tim only wanted the best for him – even if that meant destroying his own future.

His own future?

No, the more Tim thought about it… if Bruce Wayne’s parents never died, what else would change? Would someone be there that night when Dick’s parents fell? Or would Dick vanish into the system to be abused and mistreated? What would happen with Jason? The boy had been living on the street when Bruce found him…

What would happen to Gotham?

What would happen to this city that liked to eat and chew on people until it could spit them out again if Batman wasn’t there to save it? If Robin wasn’t there to offer his light?

Tim had read the reports and data collecting dust on Bruce’s desk and he knew that Bruce did his best. The Wayne name sent money to schools and foster homes, rehabilitated criminals, and offered free schooling for all those who requested it… but one rich guy couldn’t save the city, no matter how much he tried.

Thomas and Martha Wayne wouldn’t save the city either.

But maybe Batman could.

Tim believed that. He had believed that from the very first moment on he had seen Batman fly over the rooftops of Gotham city. Because Batman acted where Bruce Wayne couldn’t – and the other way ‘round. They were two sides of the same coin.

His eyes found the family down in the alley again, and he watched as they loved and lived and cared. Bruce could only become the hero he was, because he knew what love felt like – and he knew the despair that came from losing it.

Batman flew because Bruce Wayne had suffered.

Tim wanted to throw up.

He watched the child thirty feet below him smile, and he watched as Bruce told a joke, and Thomas Wayne laughed so hard he had to clutch his stomach. He watched as Martha Wayne snorted very undignified… only to sent all of them laughing even harder.

Tim… he… he couldn’t save their lives.

Tim couldn’t save Bruce’s parents even though he was given the choice, and it felt like the worst thing in the world.

Because he would damn Gotham if he did. He would ban Dick to the Gotham Juvenile System, and he would let Jason starve on the streets. He would destroy the time stream and he would… he would never see another Tim Drake happy. 

He wanted to save them so badly. He wanted to see Batman smile.

But no matter how much every part of him screamed and raged and raved… he couldn’t destroy everything just for the sake of one man. _It is what Batman would have wanted_ – maybe if Tim repeated it enough times, he would start to believe it too.

Below him the Waynes had moved deeper into the alley, their steps the only thing audible in the freezing cold. It was late, but not too late, cold, but bearable, dark, but not too dark – Park Row was an up and coming area, cheap but growing beautifully. Cafes were opening every other day, and Tim had seen an art gallery or two on his way here. 

After tonight it would drown in waves of violence and gang crime and corruption.

And Tim had vowed to watch. Tim had decided not to stop Gotham’s decent into madness.

He was Robin, he was supposed to save the city… but he wouldn’t be able to save everything. And in the grand scheme of things, the world was more important than Martha and Thomas Wayne. Even if that meant that Bruce would never smile again, even if that meant that Tim would never make Mr. Wayne happy.

He was a horrible person, really, and watching the joy radiating from the group below, Tim promised himself something else as well:

A hero should always try to save everyone – nobody got left behind – and… and this was the only time Tim would ever leave Bruce behind.

Tim might not be strong enough – or weak enough – to save this Bruce from a fate colored in sadness and loneliness, but he would make sure his own Bruce would always have a Robin, would always have a… partner.

The sound of yelling forced Tim back into the present – or the past, really – and when his eyes found the alley below, another figure had joined those he had promised to let die: The man who would kill the Waynes.

Every muscle in his body begged him to step in, to just jump down and drop-kick the asshole. But Tim couldn’t. He couldn’t damn himself and all those he held dear like that… he couldn’t… he shouldn’t…

“Don’t shot! We will give you everything we have! Just don’t shoot!”

Martha’s voice carried nothing of the joy radiating from her earlier. No, she just sounded sad and scared. She sounded like a woman preparing for the worst.

Tim’s heart was breaking.

“Don’t move! I want to see your hands!”

The voice of the man killing, shaping, destroying Bruce’s future was rough, and Tim wanted nothing more but to close his eyes and forget the world existed, but he forced himself to watch. He forced himself to look, to see the horror in Martha Wayne’s face, and the frightened anger in Thomas’s. He traced the frantic movements of the revolver with his eyes, and he saw the tears of incomprehension slide down Bruce’s cheeks.

Bruce was so young. Younger than Tim currently was, roughly the age Dick had been when his parents died. Bruce was so young – and Tim had to watch as trauma forced its way into his life.

Martha and Thomas complied, their hands rising above their heads. But Bruce was too slow, too young to fully understand what was going on. Before today Bruce had led a sheltered life, a good one, and suddenly his world was turning upside down… his hands were too slow for the crook, the gun pointing at Bruce’s head faster than Tim could blink.

This was not how it was supposed to go.

But what could Tim do to stop it? Every intervention could destroy time itself and… and as much as it hurt to admit, as much as Tim would rather die than say it out loud, but Martha and Thomas Wayne had to die.

As it turned out… Tim had to do nothing.

Time itself slowed as Tim watched and saw the tragedy that would shape an entire city unfold before his eyes. The crook aimed his gun at Bruce, and Tim could see the tremors running up and down his arm. He was nervous or on drugs or both. Tim saw as decisiveness cursed through Thomas Wayne’s veins, and he watched as the man grabbed Bruce and _pulled_.

Realization hit Martha before it hit Tim, Bruce stumbling onto the ground behind his dad, the gun finding Thomas, the finger on the trigger pulling tight.

The bang reverberated loudly through the empty alley, and it was Bruce who screamed in confusion, deadly steal in Martha’s gaze. This was the face of a woman who meant business… this was the face of a woman who would die.

Tim couldn’t watch any longer. He buried his face in his hands, hot tears escaping from under his Robin mask. He was supposed to be better than this, he was supposed to save the day. He was Robin, god dammit, and Robin always saved everyone.

But, no, Tim’s attempt to prove himself had only ended with him… with him carrying a guilt he never should have witnessed. He… Timothy Drake had nothing to do with the murder of Thomas and Martha Wayne, but from this day onward Robin would be a bystander who could have easily stopped the inevitable.

And wasn’t that just cosmic irony at work? Robin was at fault for the death of Batman’s parents.

A second scream, a second bang, echoed through the alley and Tim knew the deed was done. And he had been so weak and looked away, he had let the murderer escape, he had brought shame onto the mantel of Robin, onto the memories of both Dick and Jason who had worn this costume before him, he had…

He hadn’t heard the crook leave.

Tim freed his face from his hands and tears and gazed down into the alley once more.

The sight in front of him almost stopped his heart: The man was standing above Bruce, the boy crying while shaking his mom’s still form on the floor. The crook was still clutching the gun, the fog of the cheap gunpowder still hanging heavy in the air.

He was about to shoot Bruce.

He was about to shoot a crying and traumatized child.

There were many things Tim could hate himself for and carry on. He could live with the guilt of leaving Bruce behind in an idiotic attempt to prove himself, and he could carry on knowing that it was his fault that Bruce was the broken man he was now, but there was no place in the universe in which Tim Drake would stand by and let Bruce get hurt.

That child would be Tim’s Batman, the closest thing he had to a dad.

This child would save hundreds and thousands of lives… and he would save three boys, alone in the world, and he would give them a home even if he didn’t know it yet.

Robin stepped over the ledge of the roof and let himself fall.

He landed exactly how Dick had taught him to: in a crouch to protect his knees and with a stance that would allow him to move. The murderer stepped back with a yelp of surprise, the face in front of Tim so… so boring. It wasn’t the Joker staring back at him. Or Scarecrow. Or even Ed… it was just some man, some guy, down on his luck, unknowingly committing the crime of the decade.

If this situation wasn’t so horrid, if the smell of fresh blood wasn’t so heavy and pungent in the air, Tim might have laughed.

The world was cruel, he knew that, but who would have thought that sometimes the cruelest things that could happen, were cruel because they were… insignificant. And Tim wasn’t calling the death of the Wayne’s small or unimportant, he was…

Everything in the lives of superheroes was connected. Every girlfriend was a hero or a villain, every friend betrayed you sooner or later, every landlord or psychiatrist turned evil over time… All of them were so caught up in this world so separate from the real one, it was jarring to realize that the crime that started it all… was so mundane. So random. So simple.

Tim wanted to cry.

He didn’t. There was no time. Instead he punched the crook in the face, his fist connecting with the nose with a satisfying crunch. The man stumbled back, letting go of the gun, before turning around and running away. He left the cluttered pearls of Martha Wayne behind, and the money Thomas Wayne had been ready to give him.

He also left two bodies and a hysterical child behind – and Robin who bore witness.

Bruce hadn’t noticed him, the small boy still clutching his mother’s bloody blouse, demanding her to wake up, to return, to look at him. Tim… Tim raised his hand in an effort at comfort only to drop it before it could touch the boy's shoulder.

Bruce didn’t need him right now.

Right now, Bruce needed Captain James Gordon and a jacket that smelled of old smoke. Right now, Bruce needed Alfred Pennyworth and the reassurances of a man who would stay.

Tim couldn’t stay. This wasn’t his time or place or life.

Instead, he sent one last long look towards the bodies of Martha and Thomas Wayne, and listened to the breathless sobs of a boy who would save so many, swearing that Bruce would never be allowed to know what had really happened during the night his parents died – should Robin manage to return to his own time.

But one thing was clear: if Tim wanted to be loved by Batman, if he wanted to stay Robin, Bruce couldn’t be allowed to know the truth.

He was silent when he vanished into the night, and he was crying when he found a public telephone to call in a shooting in Park Row, demanding their best beat cop to check it out.

He was still crying when the pulling sensation in his stomach returned, the tingling taking over his body and mind.

He was still crying when he returned to consciousness in the burned down building the meta had exploded. The tears had painted streaks of ash onto his cheeks, and for a moment Tim allowed himself to be confused, to believe it was just a dream.

But there was blood on his gauntlet, and Tim knew it wasn’t his.

He was still staring at the droplets of proof, when the door to the building crashed open and Batman staggered in. Batman, who should have been in bed. Batman, who had a fever and the flu.

Batman, who sank down on his knees once he spotted Tim.

“B?”

Tim’s own voice was wobbly and weak, the shook of the last few hours heavy in his bones, the reality of Bruce in front of him just another wave of pure emotion:

“B? Everything alright, B? Aren’t you sick? You should-“

“I thought you were dead.”

“Wha-?”

Bruce sounded so broken, so tired, and for once Tim didn’t think it was the fever speaking:

“I thought you died… I woke up and you were gone… and then the explosion, I… I thought you were dead, Tim, I couldn’t find you… you can’t die…”

Bruce was crying. Bruce wasn’t allowed to cry.

Tim pushed himself away from the dirty and destroyed floor, crawling towards Bruce, his muscles aching from his trips through time. And Bruce was only watching, his gaze never straying from Tim’s face, as Tim got closer and closer and once…

Once he was in the range of Bruce’s arms, the man pulled him into a hug. A tight, bone-crushing hug, so warm and all-encompassing that Tim vanished into the embrace. It was the best thing he had ever felt, Bruce’s warm breath ghosting down his neck, the hands of the older man trembling as he hugged Tim close, mumbling again and again:

“You’re alive… you’re alive… you’re okay… you’re alive…”

“I am alive… I am here… I am sorry, Bruce, I shouldn’t have left.”

They were crying together now, and Tim felt loved in a way he had never felt loved in the short embraces his family shared. He felt loved and cared for and cherished…

“This is for later, Tim… now, please, just let me enjoy that you are alive. God, I am so happy you are alive, Tim.”

Tim melted into the embrace of his mentor ~~dad~~ , and his promise stood strong: He could never tell Bruce what he knew, he would never tell Bruce what Robin had done.


End file.
